Buzz Words
by Punny GEM
Summary: The Colonel needs to get someone out of his hair.


Title: Buzz Words

Author: Green Eyed Monster

Summary: The colonel needs to get someone out of his hair

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1, its characters and all related entities are property of Stargate SG-1 Productions (II) Inc., MGM Worldwide Television Productions Inc., Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp and Showtime Networks Inc / The SciFi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: "Giving someone a buzz" is a euphemism for giving them a call on the telephone.

Buzz Words

Jack removed his cap, running his hand through his hair. This planet was _hot_.

He heard a gasp behind him and spun around, weapon already raised. Daniel was frozen, staring in Jack's direction with his mouth open. He spun back the other way to see if the cause was behind him.

Nothing.

"Daniel?" That man was _never_ speechless - what was up? He turned more slowly around, checking in all directions.

Carter let out a short burst of laughter behind him. He turned. The woman was on her knees, one hand over her mouth, eyes bulging.

"What? What?" At least she was laughing, so it wasn't anything dangerous. He checked himself - his fly wasn't down, nor were his clothes unusually dirty, there didn't seem to be anything attached.

"Tealc?" He wasn't gaping or laughing. The big man cocked his head.

"Perhaps it is the words cut into your hair?"

"What?" Jack's hand flew to his head. He had had his hair cut just that morning, before the mission. Had almost been late to the gateroom, thanks to a marine named Clarkston fussing with the barber over his own hair.

There was something back there. Or rather, there wasn't, in some places.

"I am not familiar with that term, O'Neill. Is it meant to be amusing?"

They returned home three days later. Jack stalked through the gate ahead of his team.

"Welcome back, SG-1," the general said. "How'd it go?"

"Peachy. Carter has some great samples."

The man's words did not match his angry tone, but the general knew better than to get into details here in the gateroom. "Debrief at 14:00 hours."

Jack immediately strode towards the door.

"Sir?"

He whirled to face Carter.

She swallowed, taking a half step back from his fury. "I'll, uh, take your weapons back to the armory for you, sir."

Probably wise, though he had no intention of using anything so quick as a bullet. He thrust them into her arms and stalked out.

"I wouldn't want to be his barber right now," Daniel said under his breath.

The general watched curiously as the rest of the team left. Should be an interesting debriefing.

Toledo, two days later….

Jack stepped into the barbershop. A man with bushy dark hair was just getting the back evened up with an electric shaver, and there was no one else in the place. The barber glanced up to welcome his new client.

He shrieked when he saw who it was. The clipper cut a swath through the full dark hair of the man in the chair. The man leapt up angrily.

"What the hell did you do?" He ran his hair across the line of scalp now showing. "You idiot! Look what you did to -"

The barber wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at the man in the doorway. "I didn't want to do it! I swear! He made me do it! Don't hurt me!" he babbled.

The dark-haired man turned back toward Jack. "Hey, look, man, I don't want no part of this. I'm just going to walk out the door and -"

"Sit down!"

The man sat instantly. They both stared at him, wide eyed and terrified. _I still got it_, he thought smugly to himself. After all, he wasn't carrying anything, hadn't even moved past the doorway.

He reached back and locked the door, heard both men gasp as they watched. He flipped the sign to 'closed,' then turned and glared at them for a solid minute.

The barber was all but panting in fear. The customer wasn't far behind.

"Tell me."

"Tell him, man, tell him whatever he wants to know!" the customer exclaimed. Jack looked at him and he shrank into the chair.

He turned his steely gaze back to the barber, who pressed himself even harder against the wall. "It wasn't my fault! I didn't want to! He made me! Clarkston! He ordered me to do it, I swear! Don't hurt me!"

There was the proof. It _had_ been Clarkston, as he'd suspected. The big marine was now next in line for appropriate retaliatory measures. "Why didn't you tell me instead of doing it?"

"He ordered me not to tell. He knew I was getting out that day. He made me do it!"

Jack just glared.

"I'm sorry! I was afraid!" the barber wailed.

"Of him more than me?" Jack's tone was low and dangerous.

The man's eyes widened in horror. God! What had he said? Now he was in for it either way. "No! It's just - he knew I was getting out of there. That I was going that day. He said you'd never find me, but he would. He made me do it! It's not my fault!"

Jack took a step forward and both men shrank from him.

"I believe you."

Both men sagged in relief.

"But that's still no excuse."

Their combined inhale could have pulled him across the room.

He took another step.

"A man should take responsibility for his own actions," he said in his best Clint Eastwood drawl.

"How?" the barber whispered.

"Him first," he indicated the man in the chair, who looked ready to faint. Jack paused dramatically, even though it wasn't really fair to the poor customer. "Fix his hair."

He watched as the barber lifted shaking hands and did what he could to the man's hair. It wasn't _too _bad considering he had started with a reverse Mohawk.

"Your turn." They both stared at him, wondering what he meant. "You," he indicated the customer, "stand up. And you," the barber, "sit down." They did as ordered. Jack told the customer to give the barber a trim.

He started to object, but one glance from colonel and he snapped his mouth shut and picked up the scissors.

"You might have noticed he's into shaving things into people's hair. Feel free to create."

The man gingerly picked up the shaver.

"Think of something good; I'll make sure he keeps it for at least a week," Jack assured him. He had no intention of actually returning, but the barber wouldn't know that. The man was going to live with his artwork as long as Jack had.

Looking hesitantly at the head in front of him, the dark haired man smiled slowly as the perfect revenge came to mind.

Jack watched for a minute, guessing the words from the first few letters. A fitting revenge. He left silently, unnoticed by the other pair. Time to give Clarkston a buzz…


End file.
